


Kigo

by Twyd



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Age Difference, Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Car Sex, Caretaking, Casual Sex, Developing Relationship, Dogs, Family, Growing Old, Guilt, Honor, Implied Relationships, Intimacy, Jealousy, Look At Your Life Look At Your Choices, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Morality, Mortality, Nature, Organized Crime, Protectiveness, Recovery, Regret, Romance, Slash, Snow, Spiritual, Summer, Watching, Yakuza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-15 14:30:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13033143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twyd/pseuds/Twyd
Summary: "This is not the first time Shiki sleeps with Izaya, but it’s not far from the first, either."





	Kigo

The car swerves when Shiki is still inside Izaya, jerking him deeper, and Shiki has to clap a hand over the informant’s mouth to suppress his cry of surprise and pleasure/pain. Oblivious, Shiki’s driver calls a soft apology into the back of the limo. Shiki keeps his palm pressed over Izaya’s mouth, bringing his other hand to the back of the informant’s head to hold him just so. The positioning, its lack of space, begins to annoy him, and he pushes Izaya unceremoniously to the floor and takes him from behind instead, holding him down by the back of the neck.

The limo rolls to a halt outside Izaya’s building as Shiki finishes, as if timed. Shiki gathers his arms around the informant as he settles, feeling the last little twitches leave his body. A couple strolls past his blacked out windows, arm in arm and oblivious. After a moment, he draws Izaya back into the space between his legs, breathing in his hair, letting him lean against him more comfortably.

Izaya starts shifting in his arms, and Shiki feels behind himself for a washcloth to clean them both up. Izaya allows this without making a sound, then pulls up his clothes and exits without looking back.

This is not the first time Shiki sleeps with Izaya, but it’s not far from the first, either. Such seediness is not his style - it is crass and juvenile, taking the limo out just so he can take Izaya in this way. He keeps meaning to take the younger man to a love hotel one night, one of the less tacky ones, to really enjoy him, to see his naked body and take his time with it, but he never seems to get round to it, and Izaya never invites him in when Shiki drops him off. And why should he. They still have a business relationship, after all.

Shiki remembers being introduced to Izaya when he was still Kine’s pet and barely out of school. That wave of desire he’d felt over those good looks and sharp eyes, before dismissing him as just a child. But of course he wouldn’t remain a child, he would go to bigger and more terrible things. Kine had been rather protective of Izaya back in the day, and Shiki imagines he still is, that this will be another point of friction between himself and the other man.

Shiki eases himself back on to his seat now, wincing as his knees protest. After a moment, he lights a cigarette. He savours it, fancying Izaya’s scent still mingles with the aroma. Then, he orders his driver on to his next appointment.

-

The next time Shiki calls Izaya, he doesn’t get an answer. Which is to be expected. Izaya is independent, not at Shiki’s beck and call, and, despite his age and less appealing personal qualities, he is very much in demand. It is reasonable for him to not be available. Shiki taps an unlit cigarette against his lap. Reasonable or not, he is used to getting what he wants, and these days he wants Izaya very much. He tuts and makes a call and brings forward an appointment by an hour, giving Izaya time to get back to him and himself something to pass it with.

The hour and a half pass, and leave Shiki with nothing.

This strikes him as unusual. Yes, Izaya is in demand, but it is a Sunday, in the middle of the day. It is possible of course that Izaya has family engagements, or that he is ill, or wants to be alone, but he would still monitor his phone. Izaya would monitor his phone if he was on his deathbed.

On a whim, Shiki leans forward and gives the driver Izaya’s address anyway.

He takes a small box out from under his seat. It contains the keys to the homes of most people he worked with, especially those he doesn’t trust. He seldom used it, if ever, and he doesn’t know why he plans on using it now. He may have the power and the status to get away with it, but it is still in bad taste.

But, Shiki has always been a superstitious man who follows his intuition, and right now his intuition is telling him to find Izaya. Part of it may be physical urges rather than intuition per se, but still.

He goes up the elevator to Izaya’s home and knocks. Counts to a set number before knocking again, hard. Nothing. He takes the key out of his pocket and fits it into the lock. If Izaya is not here, which he surely isn’t, then he can let the whole thing go. Shiki opens the door and steps into the apartment.

“Izaya?” he calls softly, feeling rather silly. It being the weekend, even the secretary won’t be here. There’s not so much as a cat or a plant to greet him. Still, he feels almost self-conscious as he makes his way through the hall. An intruder.

The couch is turned away from the front door, so he only sees it as he gets closer. For a moment, Izaya just looks asleep, curled up in a foetal position in his clothes, his bare feet white and vulnerable-looking against the couch. And then he sees three empty bottles and pill boxes on a western style coffee table.

“Izaya.”

Shiki strides up to the couch and drops to his knees in front of it.

“Izaya.”

He lifts a hand and slaps Izaya hard in the face.

The informant’s head swings to one side, but he doesn’t stir.

This close, Shiki can see how wrong his colour is, how his chest is barely moving, and immediately shifts into auto-pilot. He calls Shinra, and then an ambulance, in case Shinra isn’t fast enough.

The informant’s cheek is still red where Shiki slapped him, the rest of him pale. Deathly pale and beautiful, all the clichés. Shiki takes one of Izaya’s cold hands in his own and holds it.

His own heart is beating dangerously hard, as if to make up for Izaya’s weakening one. At this rate, the ambulance or Shinra will be for both of them.

Shinra.

Shinra has known Izaya since school, but he wavers for only a moment before his face hardens, and he drops next to Izaya with his bag and gets to work.

Shiki turns away and phones the emergency services and tells them the ambulance won’t be needed, then phones his driver and tells him to go home but to be on standby. Finally, he leaves a message for Izaya’s secretary telling her that Izaya is unwell, to postpone all appointments until further notice.

“I’m going to have to pump his stomach,” Shinra tells him without looking round. “You might want to leave. It’s not very pretty.”

“I’ll stay,” he hears himself saying, a hollowed version of himself. “Can I do anything?”

“Please keep out of the way.”

Shiki backs to a safe distance and waits.

-

It’s dark, almost a new day, when Izaya starts to groan. He gives a shudder, as if his body is still ridding itself of something. Shinra talks to him soothingly, and they have a brief conversation that Shiki can’t hear. Shinra doesn’t step away until Izaya is still again.

“He’s going to be OK,” Shinra says. He looks tired, an older version of himself. “It’s probably best if we move him to my place. He should be with someone for a while.”

“I would prefer to stay with him myself.”

“He needs medical supervision.”

“Then we can both stay here.”

Shinra finally looks at him, with that wary expression everyone reserves for him when they know they can’t argue.

“I will compensate all your missed appointments, of course.”

Shinra opens his mouth and closes it again. He looks at Izaya.

“I’m his friend,” he says eventually.

 _Then why did you let this happen?_ Shiki feels like saying, but doesn’t because it is unnecessary and unfair.

“I don’t plan on causing him any distress,” Shiki tells him. “That is the last thing on my mind.”

Shinra is still looking at Izaya and no longer appears to be listening. Shiki’s own gaze falls to the informant, perfectly still and perfectly quiet. Sleeping beauty.

“I’ll stay tonight,” Shinra says eventually. “And see how he’s doing in the morning. I don’t live far away, anyway.”

-

Shiki himself doesn’t sleep. After Shinra had pulled himself a futon out of the closet – he’s clearly been here before – and settled down by Izaya’s side in the living room, Shiki settles into Izaya’s guest room.

He wanders into Izaya’s room by accident when he’s looking for this, unable to resist peering at his books. They have a surprising amount in common.

This time a few hours ago, Shiki had been thinking about fucking him. The thought seems absurd now. If he hadn’t broken in, Izaya would be dead, perhaps not to be found for several days.

And Izaya had been so _normal_ the other day, so casual and cheeky and carefree. Had it been planned? Or had it been a spontaneous act after the build-up of something, of a lot of somethings? Or could someone have tried to kill him and made it look like self-harm? No, that is wishful thinking only.

Izaya so young, so beautiful and clever, with his chic apartment and his respectable family. What would make a healthy, intelligent and well-off young man want to kill himself? Thinking about it hurts in a way that’s more than just pity. Shiki may be a patriotic man, but he doesn’t care for his country’s not unfounded tendency of its people believing that taking their own lives was the right thing to do. 

Was it his fault? Did he make Izaya feel used, worthless? Such a pitiful frame seems ridiculous for someone like Izaya, but then, so did the notion of him killing himself. Shiki decides that while he can’t have been the cause, he certainly can’t have helped. He had treated Izaya no better than a whore off the street. And what if there were others? Shiki is not the only powerful man Izaya associates with. The idea is unlikely, but it still makes him feel queasy.

With his connections, Shiki could get Izaya checked in to any of the best clinics in the country, as a priority, but he knows that doing so would be as good as killing him. No, he’s not having Izaya locked up. Shiki is an old-fashioned man at heart, and his first course of action is kindness and common sense.

When he does eventually sleep, he is plagued by dreams of Izaya in his coffin, still curled in that foetal position with his icy bare feet.

-

In the morning, Shiki can hear Shinra and Izaya murmuring to each other when he goes into the bathroom, but by the time he makes it downstairs, Izaya is unconscious again.

Shinra is standing there waiting for him.

“I’m going to head home, if you’d still like to look after him.”

Shiki nods.

“I might take him home with me, if he’ll come. I don’t live far away.”

Shinra gives a small bow.

“OK, but I’ll need to come and check on him over the next few days. Please call me any time.”

Izaya doesn’t stir until after Shinra is gone, when Shiki is sat at his side still wondering what on earth he should do. His eyes focus on Shiki for a moment, and he turns his face away.

Shiki stays where he is, not knowing what to say.

“Would you like to talk about it?” he prompts eventually.

“No.”

**-**

Shiki’s met with surprisingly little resistance when he suggests moving to their house. Not that anything changes once they’re there.

Izaya stays in bed with the blanket drawn over his head. At night, Shiki slips in beside him and curls around him, and Izaya neither stiffens nor snuggles into him. He looks younger than ever, and Shiki almost wonders whether he should be sleeping with him at all, if he should move to the other room and give him some space. But, he can’t bring himself to give up this act of selfishness: part of him still cannot quite believe that Izaya is not dead, and he needs constant reassurance of this.

Izaya sleeps in that awful foetal position, his body closed off, hands in half fists, often mumbling nonsense. When Izaya gets restless, Shiki reaches for him clumsily in the dark, half asleep. His hand falls somewhere between Izaya’s stomach and his groin, and Shiki is rewarded with a hard, unforgiving kick to the shin.

“-OK,” Shiki grumbles, wincing.

He strokes Izaya’s hair instead, which doesn’t seem bother him so much. Shiki makes a mental note to avoid touching Izaya in certain ways going forward, whether he’s asleep or awake.

That first evening, he slices some mushrooms into a broth and coaxes Izaya to eat. Which he manages, until he brings it all up an hour later, and keeps throwing up well into the night.

“I’m so sorry,” he keeps saying, mortified.

Shiki calls Shinra, who suspects it is a reaction to the medication, that his stomach is still weak.

This is the true test of his patience and kindness, when he seriously considers having Shinra take him off his hands, but then he can see how mortified Izaya is and can’t bring himself to do it.

-

And so Shiki’s routine, painstakingly developed over 20 years, is broken by less sleep, by conference calls and briefings he should be attending in person, punctuated by visits from Shinra.

Shiki has always been the prepared sort, always had a back-up plan and associates for if, say, he were to come down with a sudden illness, so it is relatively easy to set up these calls and alternatives to keep his work ticking over. He is afraid to leave Izaya alone. He especially hates it when the informant takes a bath, when he seems to take so long and goes so quiet. But, Shiki has to be practical. He couldn’t protect Izaya from every sharp object and every belt and every window. He just has to be there for him and pray.

So, he works from home, he cooks for Izaya and holds him while he sleeps, and waits patiently for some sort of sign that it’s doing any good.

“You don’t have to do all this,” Izaya keeps mumbling. “Really. You can let me go home. I won’t do anything, I promise.”

“Not just yet,” is his typical reply.

-

When Izaya recovers enough to keep down real food, Shiki celebrates by making him real food on his favourite china. Seafood with jasmine rice and miso soup, spiced edamame and peanut sauce, with an unopened bottle of sake.

A drop of water splashes on one of the plates. Shiki stares at it, wondering where on earth it could have come from, until it is joined by another one, and he realises Izaya is crying.

“Izaya.”

Shiki takes his one of his hands and holds it. Izaya keeps his head ducked, the food steaming peacefully around him. Shiki looks at their hands, Izaya’s like porcelain in his own weathered one. Izaya refuses to look at him. He hadn’t looked at him since he’d been here.

After a moment, Izaya takes a napkin with his free hand to wipe his face, and Shiki pushes a glass of water towards him.

 “Thank you,” he says. “This is really good. I can’t cook,” he adds with a self-deprecating smile, a bittersweet reminder of how young he really is. He may make some senior men quake, but there is something childish, even naïve, about him.

 “I think I should go home soon, Shiki-san,” Izaya says, after their meal. “I promise I won’t do anything.” The ‘san’ annoys him, as if they were strangers rather than two people who currently share a bed.

“No,” Shiki agrees, after a long drink of sake. “I imagine you won’t. I imagine you’ll leave it until you presume I’m bored of you and I leave you in peace, and that way you don’t have to worry about offending me.”

Shiki knows he’s not far off the mark by the way Izaya pales and looks away. He sighs. Part of him wants to needle the point, but instead he finds Izaya’s hand and holds it.

“Please try, dear. You mean a great deal to me.”

_Dear? Where had that come from?_

But it doesn’t matter because he had meant it.

 “There are things about me you don’t know,” Izaya says. “And you wouldn’t do all this for me if you did.”

“Like what?”

He doesn’t answer.

“I know about Akane, if that’s what you mean.”

The look on his face is almost comical.

“Please don’t do anything like that again.”

-

This at least serves as an icebreaker, and their routine feels a little less forced.

Izaya starts reading books he’s brought from home – Haiku and Russian idioms or classic novels and Philosophy, confirming Shiki’s suspicions of how much they have in common, and it’s a relief to know he’s not been blindsided by just a pretty face.

Izaya still won’t talk about it, but he slowly starts to work on Shiki’s spare laptop, and seems to be getting back to normal.

They are developing this routine when Shiki receives an urgent call. He supposes it was just a matter of time.

Izaya is watching him when he hangs up.

“You can go out if you need to,” he says. “I promise I won’t do anything.”

Shiki doesn’t respond.

“Really,” Izaya persists. “I don’t want to inconvenience you any more than I already have. I can text you every few hours so you know I’m all right.”

Shiki looks down at their entwined hands. Part of him – most of him – doesn’t want to leave, but he knows he can’t coddle the informant forever.

So, he goes to meet his associates. He even goes to a few other meetings afterwards, thinking he might as well make a day of it, after Izaya texts him to check in. Shiki doesn’t reply. He’d never been much of a multi-tasker. Just knowing Izaya is all right is enough for him, and if he starts worrying too much he’ll be lost.

He comes home after this tiresome day to the smell of something delicious.

“Hi,” Izaya says as Shiki lets himself in. “Um. This is about the only thing I can cook. I hope you like it.”

It’s a simple yet delicious dish of noodles, and he’d left the kitchen spotless.

“Did you go out?” Shiki asks him, trying to remember what spices he had in the fridge.

“Just to the store. I took your spare key from the bowl.”

He does have some colour in his cheeks.

In bed that night, Izaya falls asleep against his shoulder instead of curling away from him. It’s a start.

-

Shiki goes to the meetings the next day as well. Izaya leaves with him, to get back to his own appointments. Shiki is fine with this, relaxed even. It is only later, when his car is drifting through Shinjuku, that he notices a crowd gathering near Izaya’s building, the wail of an ambulance approaching. Something inside him goes cold. He opens the door without even telling his driver to stop, ignoring the screech of horns around him as he makes his way through the cars to the crowd.

Disbelief gathers in the pit of his stomach as he pushes through the herd, their murmurs echoing around him.

_He jumped, they say._

_And only a young man, too._

_So terrible._

Shiki’s chest tightens until he can’t breathe.

“Shiki?”

A hand is on his shoulder, steadying him. It is Izaya’s hand, and the informant’s beautiful face peering into his own.

“It’s not me, Shiki, I’m here. Are you all right?”

Shiki squeezes his eyes shut and breathes in shakily, his chest protesting mightily against the shock.

Then he steels himself and pushes Izaya off him as hard as he can. He goes back to his car and slams the door, choking for his driver to take him home.

 _You’re an old man_ , he thinks. _Why are you doing this to yourself? What were you thinking in the first place, taking him in the car like a high schooler? That brat had issues written all over him right from the start._

No, he doesn’t need this.Years of peace and routine, only to be shattered by this brat with a pretty face. Shiki can’t take the strain of it. He could find far better looking men or women in Tokyo for far less hassle. Shiki finds his fists balling.

_How dare he do this to me._

The feeling gets weaker in the calm of his home. By the time he’d meditated and made tea, he’s left with nothing but the sour taste of shame in his mouth.

_You coward._

He calls Izaya when he is sufficiently calm, who of course doesn’t answer.

“Izaya, my darling, please call me back. I’m so sorry.”

-

“I was thinking of going to the mountains this weekend, to see some partners of mine,” he tells Izaya in bed, because Izaya doesn't leave it long, doesn't hold a grudge, and for this Shiki is grateful. “Not far from Lake Motosu. You should come. It’s very beautiful this time of year.”

“You have business there?” Izaya asks, surprised.

“Yes.”

Contrary to popular belief, a lot of Shiki’s dealings are in agriculture, in construction and logistics, even office supplies. The duller the industry, the better. He despises drugs and trafficking.

-

The mountains _are_ beautiful this time of summer, the irises and hydrangeas in full bloom, the sun out until late. Shiki is driving a Lexus, driving it himself, in a plain sweater and dark trousers: no need for airs and graces out here.

Izaya keeps his face averted, eyes expressionless and hard. Shiki glances at him, realising he doesn’t have a clue what he’s thinking, and experiences a prickle of unease. _Does he hate me? Has he always hated me, and just been humouring me all along?_

He tries to dismiss the thought.

“Can you drive?” 

“I have a licence,” Izaya smiles. “But it’s been a while.”

“Have a go, if you want.”

“Mm. Maybe away from the sheep.”

Shiki doesn’t push it.

They both fall silent, taking in the scenery and the colours.

It is only when they pull up to the old house when he notices Izaya stiffen.

“What is it?”

“I don’t like dogs very much.”

Shiki follows his gaze to the collies running around on the grass. He hardly notices them anymore.

“Oh, those. I’ll have our hosts lock them up.”

“I don’t want to cause trouble.”

“It’s no trouble. They’re often locked up for visitors.”

They get out of the car once the dogs are safely behind the gate. One of them sticks its head over the top, tail wagging madly, determined to make friends. Izaya pats its head nervously. The dog whines, pressing to get closer to him.

 “It’ll be dark soon,” Shiki observes. “Let’s have dinner and relax.”

Shiki’s colleagues are aware he’s bringing a guest, and that they would like some time alone.

-

They have a lodge to themselves behind the main house, simple but warm enough and cosy.

They take sake out into the fields after sunset and well into the dark. Shiki has a rug over his knees, and Izaya has one around his shoulders. Crickets chirp around them, and the stars above them. It is a mild night, but not humid enough for mosquitos. It is perfect, in other words.

 _Aren’t you glad you’re not dead?_ He wants to ask Izaya, but doesn’t.

Izaya is slightly drunk. His hair shines in the moonlight, making him appear elf-like and ethereal. Watching him, Shiki wants to kiss him, but he remembers the kick to the shin and decides to hold off from any advances until he gets a clear signal otherwise.

“I really want to climb that.”

Izaya has tipped his head back to look at the highest summit around them, its peak powdered in snow.

“At the risk of sounding like your mother, please don’t climb that.”

Izaya laughs softly.

“Why are you doing this, Shiki-san?” he asks after a moment.

Shiki lets his breathing fill the silence.

“I mean,” Izaya goes on. “It had nothing to do with you. You have no, ah, no obligation.”

“Is it so hard to believe that I might just like you?”

“I don’t mean a great deal to you,” he says, echoing Shiki’s words from earlier.

“Why do you think that?” Shiki says. “Do you think I would let just anyone into my home?”

Izaya says something he doesn’t quite catch about sex.

“We haven’t had sex for a little while now. And you should have told me if you didn’t want to. I won’t touch you again without your permission.”

“I wanted to.”

Izaya finishes off his sake in a few swallows.

“You don’t have to drink to talk to me, Izaya.”

Izaya makes an unconvinced noise. He shifts around on the grass, apparently growing bored of the subject, and Shiki sighs. 

-

He wakes up before Izaya the next day, and spends time catching up with his hosts. They’re good people, and it’s one of his more pleasant meetings.

By the time he’s done, Izaya is up and cautiously petting one of the younger dogs through the fence.

“There are hot springs just behind us,” Shiki tells him. “Why don’t you join me?”

-

Shiki is already immersed when Izaya joins him. They stay silent at their separate ends, breathing in the clean air. A feeling of peace settles over Shiki. It doesn't matter if this trip has done something for Izaya or not: _he needed this._ His mind empties completely as he bathes and comes back to himself. 

Shiki gets out, puts on his robe and goes back to their lodge, hearing Izaya follow him after a few moments. He turns his mind idly back to work, to logistics and payments, while the fan whirrs above their heads. He opens his mouth to tell Izaya they'll be going back, when Izaya climbs in his lap and kisses him. Their first kiss. And he can feel that Izaya means it, that he doesn’t hate him after all.

In bed, Shiki sheds his robe and feels Izaya breathe in as he takes in the power of who is on top of him, his arms and chest covered in status tattoos and scars.

“Shiki- “

“Haruya. Call me Haruya.”

**-**

When they return to the city, Shiki gives Izaya a permanent key to his apartment.

-

After this, Shiki makes the annual trip to his parents’ grave. It is just a duty call, but his recent throes in love and death have given him a shake, and he approaches the tradition with newfound respect. He even wonders if they would have liked Izaya. He likes to think they would have, had Izaya been a woman.

He finds himself thinking about Izaya’s family. The informant didn’t mention them much. Shiki had even forgot he had sisters until he had seen them one time, crossing in front of his car when the lights changed, oblivious that its backseat contained their brother’s lover. He wonders how they would feel about this, how they would react if they knew how close they’d come to losing him. How his parents would have felt. Wherever they were now, they had once held him and sent him to school and loved him.

Shiki often means to tell Izaya to appreciate his family while he still can, but senses this won’t get him very far. In some ways, they have far too much in common.

This time of year makes Shiki nervous. Suicide rates go through the roof around the holidays. But this of course is nonsense, as Izaya had made his attempt in the very height of summer. Sun or snow would make no difference. Still, it makes him uneasy even so, and he can’t wait for the festivities to be over.

-

He meets Izaya in the city when he returns from the cemetary. Izaya is leaning over the bridge on the overpass, head on his hands, where he appears to have been for some time. It is his first time in Ikebukuro in almost six months. The seasons have changed, the humidity exchanged for the bite of the first frost.

“What are you looking at?”

“Everything.”

“Hm.”

Shiki lights a cigarette and leans on the railings, dropping his free hand to the small of Izaya’s back and massaging him lazily.

After a moment he feels Izaya stiffen and follows his gaze. Heiwajima Shizuo.

“Urgh,” Izaya says. “If I were a lesser man I’d throw something.”

They both watch the bodyguard pass with his client. Shiki wonders if Izaya has seen him since what happened. Probably not.

 “Have you always hated Heiwajima?”

“Hated?” Izaya muses. “No, not always. I suppose it developed from a mild irritation. He however hated me on sight, before I ever said or did anything.”

Something about his tone indicates that this still bothers him. He is frowning now as his eyes follow his enemy.

“What a pity,” Shiki observes.

Izaya snorts.

“Is it?”

“He could be your friend.”

Izaya laughs out loud, so loud Shiki’s surprised that Heiwajima doesn’t turn back and look up at them.

“Let’s talk about something more sensible.”

Shiki changes the subject to a group he’d had Izaya researching for him, and although Izaya answers him eloquently enough, he doesn’t take his eyes off Heiwajima until he’s gone.

-

Christmas comes and goes, and Izaya is still alive, still himself, and still in Shiki’s arms.

The day after New Year’s Day, Shiki’s car is cruising to stop to pick Izaya up in Ikebukuro, when he sees Heiwajima. Shiki frowns. He had almost forgotten about the other man. He discreetly lowers his window to listen.

Shiki has seen Heiwajima and Izaya together in the past, of course, and he’d been struck by how similar they were, despite their differences. Both headstrong and wild and ever so slightly mad. Nowadays he's wary though, more protective of Izaya than he knows he needs to be, but he can't help himself.

Heiwajima is frowning at his enemy, and Shiki inclines his head to the window to listen.

“I was wondering when you’d finally show up. Thought you were dead or something.”

Shiki tightens his jaw, but Izaya only smiles at Shizuo in his usual twisted way.

“Tough luck, Shizu-chan.”

They converse a little longer, and Izaya pelts the other with a snowball when he is midsentence. A snowball fight ensues, endearing and rather amusing in its ferocity.

Shiki smiles to himself now, pleased to see Izaya in this rare act of exuberance. Izaya is more relaxed around Shiki than he used to be, but still suppresses his playful side, and Shiki's glad to see this.

Izaya spots the car then. Instead of taking advantage of his distraction, Heiwajima follows his gaze, and frowns when he recognises the car, which turns into an outright scowl when Izaya abandons the game and hops into the car.

“Hello!” Izaya chirps, shutting the door behind him. “What good timing.”

“You’re all wet,” Shiki smiles, leaning back when Izaya tries to embrace him.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “He started it.”

“Hm.”

Shiki watches Heiwajima stalk off now, the anger radiating even from the backs of his shoulders.

“He doesn’t seem to care for me much,” Shiki observes.

“He doesn’t care for anyone. There are literally about three people in the world he won’t throw things at.”

“Hmm,” Shiki says in response. “Do you think it’s strange that he’s never had a girlfriend? He’s your age, isn’t he?”

Izaya looks at him with a smile in his eyes.

“Shiki, if you’re worried about any unresolved sexual tension between Shizu-chan and I, you can rest assured that that’s not the case.”

-

Shiki's not quite convinced, but forgets about this when he gets sick himself.

It's not serious, but he still tries to keep Izaya away, not wanting to show signs of flagging vitality to someone nearly 20 years his junior. Izaya won’t hear of it however.

“I couldn’t get rid of you when I needed looking after,” he says, holding a damp washcloth to his forehead.

“That was completely different,” Shiki says, trying to harden his voice. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to, Izaya. Show some respect.”

Izaya just grins at this, looking more himself than ever.

“I’m talking to someone I care about very much.”

 -

Shiki finds his thoughts returning to Heiwajima as he recovers. Shiki is a traditional man, meditates a lot, prays a lot, has home cooked meals, whilst Izaya, like most his age, simply couldn’t be bothered.  Perhaps Izaya would be better off with someone his own age. Someone with his zest and lifestyle.

Shiki is old. Izaya is almost certain to outlive him, unless, God forbid, he chose not to. For all their closeness over the past year, Izaya has still not talked about it, and Shiki has no shred of insight into what had prompted him.

Kine still doesn’t know. Shiki had had lunch with him a little before Christmas, and it had been clear he didn’t know. Shinra hadn’t told anyone. Shiki should really do something about this, as if something does happen to him, Izaya is going to need a support network.

“You’re getting a little carried away, aren’t you,” Izaya says when he brings it up. “It’s just a cold.”

But it’s not about the cold, it’s about preparing for the future and not letting Izaya down again.

He changes his will so that he leaves Izaya everything. Well, almost everything. Family and associates and a few who might make trouble get a decent share. Money and materials don’t mean much to the informant, but Shiki still feels he will be entitled to every bit of him that is left.

He goes for a walk as he recovers, his first time out of the house in a little while, and finds him heading through Ikebukuro. He knows more or less where he can find Izaya on a given day, and thinks they can go to a bar if he's not too busy.

Shiki finds Izaya, however he's not alone. He approaches silently as he and Heiwajima talk, and can tell by the set of Izaya’s shoulders that he is bracing himself for something.

“I tried to kill myself last year.”

“…what?” The other man’s voice is stricken, as if hearing the news about a member of his own family. “What are you talking about?”

Izaya is squirming around as if wishing he hadn’t said anything.

Shiki watches him with his chest getting tighter and tighter.

_Yes, love, what are you talking about, when you won’t even talk to me about this?_

“Why would you do that?” Heiwajima is saying, and Shiki leans in in spite of himself, letting jealousy aside at the prospect of getting an insight into the informant’s head.

_If you confide in this idiot over me it’ll break my heart._

Izaya shakes his head and shrugs.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Shiki wants to shake him. He can tell Heiwajima does too.

“Just forget it, Shizu-chan,” Izaya adds, backing off. “Forget I said anything.”

“Izaya,” Heiwajima blurts, to stop him. “You can – you can talk to me about it if you want to. It’s OK.”

Izaya stops, wrong-footed, as if Heiwajima might be playing a trick on him. Then he shakes his head again.

“Don’t tell anyone, Shizu-chan.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

Izaya nods, and Heiwajima nods back, like the end of a conversation between friends.

 _Don’t read into it,_ Shiki warns himself as they part, and he drifts back into one of the stores so they don't see him. _Do not read into it._

Perhaps it was even a good thing. Perhaps it signified Izaya coming to terms with what had happened, finally admitting it to himself. Heiwajima had probably just been in the right place at the right time. Or his opinion was too insignificant to matter.

Still. It leaves Shiki in an uncomfortable place where he’s not sure whether to hold Heiwajima in high regard or have him killed. He wants Izaya to have a friend, wants him to have more friends, but not Heiwajima, not when Shiki’s unsure if he’s a saint or a threat.

 _You’re being ridiculous,_  he tells himself.

Izaya has never given Shiki any reason not to trust him. He and Heiwajima had never shown an interest in anything but baring their teeth at one another.

It doesn’t matter. If Shiki had to choose between Izaya being with Shizuo and happy, truly happy, and being with himself but not happy, Shiki would let him go in a second, and give them every blessing.

**-**

Izaya is reading when he gets home, sipping tea, and smiles at Shiki when he comes in, with no trace of guilt or conflict in his eyes. Of course not. He has nothing to feel guilty about, he hasn't done anything.                   

“Hello,” Izaya says, pulling him into a hug. “You look a lot better."       

These are the things that matter. He may spend the rest of his days in important meetings, exerting his power, only to come home to the person he loves, same as any man, rich or poor.

_Loves?_

Yes, he thinks so. He is in the second half of his life, probably, and he wants to spend it doing what matters.

**Author's Note:**

> Had a title block again :( So I've put Kigo for now, which is a Japanese term used in Haiku to refer to different seasons. Thank you for reading.


End file.
